


Atonement

by bothways



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothways/pseuds/bothways
Summary: Takes place when the boys are still much younger and set initially in a republican controlled town in Northern Ireland, alternate universe as Noah gets out of prison much earlier than in the films.





	1. The Provos

Despite the cold outside the air felt warm and oppressive as he stepped into the small terrace house as if there had been too many people trapped inside for too long. It reminded him fleetingly of the Hoag. She had them on their knees again, heads bowed and facing towards the wall and from the fact that they were still not properly dressed despite it being lunchtime he would have guessed they had been in this position for quite some time. He'd told himself countless times since coming back "home" that he wouldn't interfere with the way she brought them up, that he had no right to say anything after having been gone so long and that they certainly wouldn't welcome his interference.

 

As he stood at the door he witnessed her arm come back and thump the back of Connor's head with the bible in her hand. Even though she was a small woman there was enough force behind the blow to knock his boy forward on his knees. Murphy's head shot up when she hit his brother and the look he threw her could have been described as pure hatred. "Ma. Stop, there ain't no need . . "

"There's every need boy. Now, get yer head back down and pray for yer sins."

"Murph, leave it." At the plea from his brother, Murphy dropped his gaze and bowed his head again albeit that defiance was written into every line of his back. Noah knew then with a similar clarity to that he had with his God-given mission to defend the weak in America that he had to take back over the reins of the family that he had all but abandoned even if his sons were unlikely to welcome him doing so.

 

"Annabel, lass, ye nearly knocked the laddie's head off there." She stayed frozen as if she didn't hear him, the hand holding her bible was trembling. He tried again. "Lass, it's lunchtime and they two oughta be in school not still here with ye. Can ye send them in and we can deal with whatever the problem is tonight?"

 

She was a blubbering mess, on her knees apologising to him repeatedly for her failure to bring them up right. Talking about their sins and how she couldn't let them go to school as the devil within them would corrupt the innocents there. He couldn't smell any whisky on her for once and Noah considered briefly whether she had lost her mind but sought to reassure her anyway. 

 

"Lass, ye take on too much. They're a fine pair of lads. Aye, they're full of piss and vinegar and get into too many fights but sometimes a man needs to fight. It's difficult fer a priest to understand that lass but they don't live in the same world as the rest of us."

 

"Noah, it ain't that. Heaven knows I don't like 'em fighting but hundred times better that than this. I caught 'em upstairs," she paused to cross herself, "fornicating with each other." Noah felt a cold hand tighten around his heart and struggled to keep breathing as the implications of what she was saying dawned on him.

 

"Lass that ain't an accusation ye should be throwing around lightly," he warned. "Are ye absolutely sure of that?"

 

"I know what I saw." Her tone left no room for doubt and the absence of any denial from the two boys in the room seemed to confirm her assertion and what Irish catholic boy wouldn't vehemently protest such an accusation. Noah slumped down on one of the uncomfortable wooden dining chairs and just stared ahead of him at his lads' backs. Murphy, dark haired and pale, clearly nervous and fidgeting but, Noah knew from experience, likely to strike like a rattlesnake if provoked. Connor, fairer haired but darker-skinned, broader and about half an inch taller than his brother, kneeling stoically and completely still just occasionally darting his eyes towards his twin.

 

"Go and make a pot of tea lass and let me think on it a bit." 

 

She busied herself, seeming to calm down as her husband took charge and he realised then that he had wronged her and the boys again by not taking proper control of his household when he had arrived back from prison 9 months ago. It was a man's job to take charge, to set the rules for his wife and children and then see that they were obeyed; how often had he had that drummed into him as a child. He'd doubted himself when he came back; doubted he was fit for any place in society after the things he had done, the place he had lived for so long. The lads seemed almost fully grown and he'd been sure they didn't need him anymore. He'd have gone somewhere else but Sibeal had convinced him that his place was with his family at least until he was called by the Lord again. 

 

Annabel had been delighted to have him back, the town and church had welcomed him back as well as if he was a conquering hero, a martyr for the cause rather than an ex-con. Even the provos who all but ran the town had given him the nod and offered him help if he needed it. It had seemed that everyone was pleased to see him apart from the two blue-eyed boys who had watched his every move warily. If he'd been honest with himself at the time their watchfulness and slightly cocky defensiveness should have reminded him of the young men arriving in Hoag, the young men who'd already seen too much violence and expected a kick or a punch round every corner. At Annabel's insistence he'd been allocated the place at the head of the table and taken control of their finances. This had worked out well as within a few weeks of arriving he'd started up a leather business which had been successful immediately (his da had taught him the trade well, it was a good trade, an honest trade and he thought about getting the boys involved, to give them something behind them when he was called back to America which he knew he would be soon). He'd been able to get his sons some decent clothes and stop Annabel from working in that pub. The boys had seemed grateful for the clothes and the chance at a job and a trade when they left school but that was as far as the relationship had progressed, they had continued to be wary of him and had kept him at arms' length.

 

He'd briefly made a break through with his sons about a month after he'd first come back, he'd been sure of it. Mike Shaughnessy was the sacristan at Fr. Kinney's church and a wannabe provo who, unlike his older brothers, had never made the grade. The scumbag had been hanging around his wife like a bad smell when he'd first come back and, if Annabel had been a different type of woman he might have thought something of it. She had explained that she had called on him from time to time to be a fatherly influence on the boys, that she was finding it difficult to manage their "wilder" behaviour by herself and that Fr. Kinney thought it wise to have a man like Shaughnessy take them in hand lest they attract the attention of the provos directly. Judging by the filth that rolled off Murphy's tongue and the fire in Connor's eyes whenever the man was in the room that experiment had failed rather spectacularly. He'd been surprised that Annabel was so worried about them, Sibeal had always maintained that they were a great pair of lads, good, kind and very devout and he'd gone specifically to speak to Dermot, his old pal in the provos and the lads were not on their radar at all as into drugs or petty theft.

 

It was the second time Shaughnessy had been round since he had come back and the interaction between the man and his boys had spurred him out of his inertia. Annabel had left the front room to make a pot of tea and the boys and Shaughnessy had got into it right in front of him, all in low voices as neither side seemed keen to have Annabel hear what they were saying. It was the beginning of a fight he could tell, the boys were circling using the fact that it was two to one to their advantage and goodness knows they needed an advantage as Shaughnessy was a 6' 6''monster of a man and his boys still had some filling out to do. It was Murphy who goaded the man with a selection of cuss words as bad as anything he had ever heard in jail, and it was Murphy that Shaughnessy had his sights set on but it was Connor that Noah watched, something in his eyes indicated that he was about to snap. Noah couldn't help but notice the way his generally sweet-natured son touched his back pocket from time to time and was pretty sure Connor had a blade in there. The authority that he had always wielded in jail came back to him then and he ordered Shaughnessy outside for a discussion not before telling Murph that if he ever heard filth like that coming out of his mouth again, he'd be using the soap himself. Shaughnessy never did come back for that cup of tea.

 

After that the boys seemed to warm to him slightly at least for a short while. They had also seemed to be on their best behaviour trying, he supposed, not to give him cause to pick up where Shaughnessy left off. He had reassured Annabel that if she needed help managing the boys he was here now and she didn't need Shaughnessy; however, the first time she had called on him he'd failed her, unable to dispense the justice that she thought the boys had coming. There had been a fracas in the choir stalls at the end of the service one Sunday, he hadn't been there but apparently the entire congregation had seen Murphy jump on the MacArthy boy and start pummeling him. Connor had joined in immediately afterwards in support of his twin. Fr Kinney was furious, the boys had been chucked out of the choir and Annabel, somewhat understandably, was mortified and asked him to give them both a strapping. She had accompanied him up to their bedroom with a pretty hefty, old-fashioned belt in her hand that he feared she just kept for the purpose of punishing the boys. 

 

The boys had seemed pretty nervous but defiant when left alone with him. He'd tried to talk to them, find out what had happened, why they would do something that would be so disrespectful to God and upset their mother so but he had not had a straight answer. He should have known talking wouldn't work, he'd never been much good at that and 15 years in the Hoag had just made that worse. He came to the conclusion afterwards that it was probably the presence of the strap that their mother had left in the room that prevented any rational conversation from their end so wound up and full of adrenaline as they both were. He figured that Shaughnessy had a lot to answer for with whatever he had done in the name of "discipline". They both danced around him trying to goad him into getting angry with them; again he realised afterwards that this was probably just a ploy to protect each other, each trying to ensure that the one he started on first was themselves and not their twin. When this hadn't worked and he'd moved to touch Murphy, hoping for what he wasn't sure just maybe to calm him down, Connor had pulled a knife on him. It was interesting to see, although perhaps not surprising given what good goddamn scrappers they were, that Connor knew how to hold and slash with a knife; however, he had scrapped with the best in the Hoag, usually for his life, so it hadn't been difficult to disarm a 16-year-old boy. He had made the boy drop the knife by twisting his arm. It had been an automatic reaction but he had released him immediately scared of going too far, hurting him unintentionally. He'd left them then without another word, unable to deal with their anger and their hurt. Scared of touching them with his violence, feeling unworthy of the title "father", letting down both Annabel and the boys. After that day Annabel had never asked him to discipline them again although she continued to hold them on an ever tighter leash. He noticed and marvelled at the respect they showed her and how they complied without complaint to all of her increasingly bizarre and childish punishments, obviously preferring that to the threat of Shaughnessy or even himself.


	2. Working things out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will a devout catholic father, who also happens to be a religious vigilante, react to the proof that his teenage sons are committing incest?

It was no doubt too little, far too late but he had to get involved this time properly. As his wife brought his tea in Noah gripped her wrist gently. 

"Annabel, lass I want you to go out and leave this to me. I need you not to mention this to anyone, not even a priest." She looked like she was about to argue. "Annabel, I'm serious. You need to let me sort this out. Lots of the priests round here are directly linked to the provos. Even Father Kinney. You cannot mention this to a soul or all hell is going to break loose. You have to obey me on this lass." She nodded and Noah felt relief course through him knowing how seriously she took her marriage vows to "obey" him. "Thanks lass, it'll be alright I'm telling ye."

 

After finally hearing the click of the front door, Noah rose, speaking sternly to his sons backs. "Say a prayer of contrition for upsetting your mother and disrespecting her by carrying on acts in her house of which she would disapprove and then come and sit at the table, we need to discuss a few things. I'll make us a drink."

 

When Noah came back into the room carrying chocolate milk for Murphy and coffee for Connor as suspected the boys had not obeyed his simple request to sit at the table but were instead stood at the door poised either to flee or fight him he couldn't tell which yet. He approved, this indicated that they understood the seriousness of the position they were in. Punishments beatings by the provos were common in this area if anyone stepped out of line. Being gay would certainly earn you a knee-capping but male/male incest might well lead to a painful death as an example to the community. 

 

As usual Connor spoke first. "You're a catholic vigilante."

"Aye, well spotted." He grinned at his boy,hoping to ease the tension but failing miserably.

"You're in league with the provos."

"Not really but they help me acquire supplies for what I do. I know some people in the RA, that's all. Now are you going to sit down?"

"Why would we sit down and drink with you knowing there's a good chance you are planning to off us?" Noah smiled.

"I don't suppose if I told you I wasn't planning to do that you'd trust me?" He looked at the anxious expression on his older's son's face. "No, I suppose not. Here, lets see if this helps." Noah slowly took out first one gun and then another and emptied the bullets out onto the table.

"And the knives" Connor spoke again.

"You're learning son." Noah pulled out two knives from his waist.

"Murph, pat 'im down."

"What the fuck, you pat 'im down. This is nuts Connor." There seemed to be some non-verbal communication between the twins which resulted in Connor giving in and approaching him to check for weapons. Noah started to get the warm feeling that Murphy didn't completely distrust him in the way that Connor did.

Connor gave him a pretty thorough pat down throughout the body but forgot to check in his boots. 

"Son, if you really want to check for weapons the first thing you do is remove a man's boots. No chancer who knows his business is going to have less than 2 boot knives." Il Duce pulled first one and then another small knife from his boots. "You'd be surprised about the damage you can do with a small, well-made blade. Though if I was out to kill ye son I'd do it with my bare hands and the only way you can stop that would be to tie me up. Just to be clear I ain't really inclined to let ye do that so yer gunna have to trust me that much." Il Duce sat down and indicated again towards the other seats at the small table. "Go on lads, ye've gotta be tired after kneeling like that all morning."

 

Murphy moved forward and seemed to pull Connor with him; with a hard shove Connor pushed his brother behind him and sat down next to Il Duce himself. Il Duce wasted no time getting down to it.

 

"Just honest answers if you please. Is this the first time you've done this?" Connor shook his head slowly.

"Since when then?" Surprisingly, it was Murphy that answered.

"Since we were wee." He paused at that. He'd known it really. How he'd known it he couldn't tell you. It wasn't just the way they were so in sync with each other or the dependency they had on each other, there was also a tenderness between the two of them, as if the only tenderness they had ever known was from each other. When Noah thought about that the guilt was overwhelming. Even his solitary soul had noticed it since being back, this house run by Annabel didn't really contain any love. Her overwhelming obsession was how to save their souls. They were naturally such happy sweet boys, it was no wonder they clung together in the face of such an unforgiving, harsh world.

"Would ye stop? If ye understand the danger you are in, ye'll be a shoot to kill target for the provos. Ye aren't just looking at a beating for this although Christ knows that'd be tough enough. Yer mother is going to suffer, she'll be shunned if word gets out. There's no Christian kindness and forgiveness in this town for that kind of thing. Ye realise that folks just consider what ye are doing an abomination?"

They looked at him with implacable blue eyes. That was a "no" if ever he had seen one. 

"Well the typical solution, given how young ye are, is to separate ye both, see if it dies down."

"That ain't gunna happen. We'd rather die." Connor was unequivocal. Murphy's head shot up at that and looked at him with a clear plea in his eyes. That was interesting, neither of them had ever asked him for anything before. Oh they'd thanked him when he gave them money to go and get some new clothes (the fact that they'd both seemed chuffed with their identical outfits and matching black pea coats had given him a warm feeling) and they'd thanked him when he took the three of them out to a restaurant one time but they'd never asked him to help them, not even with Shaughnessy. He wasn't sure that Connor was asking him for help now either but Murphy looked like he might be and there it came.

 

"What can we do da?" He wasn't sure if he would have done it had it not been for that quiet question indicating a bit of faith and trust in his judgement, he had to live up to his boy's trust, he just had to.

 

"Ye can come with me, to America. What yer doing, ain't exactly ok over there but provided yer careful, should be alright and ye'll be away from yer ma who'll be watching ye like a hawk from now on." He didn't really want the responsibility of two youths whilst he was carrying out his mission but the light shining in Murphy's eyes when he said that made it all worth it. Connor, on the other hand, was less convinced.

 

"Why would ye do that? Don't you disapprove of what we are? Think we're going to hell, that we've got the devil in us. Father Kinney said ye were the vengeful right hand of God and we'd better watch out for our sins." Connor seemed uncertain now.

 

"Bugger Kinney. My brother's Father Sibeal not Fr. Kinney and, although I'm hardly worthy of calling him brother I'd follow his message of Christian love and forgiveness over Kinney's poison any day." Noah paused and took a deep breath in, steeling himself against painful memories. "I can't say this is easy for me.I ain't exactly thrilled with what yer up to but I think ye have to make yer own mind up on whether loving someone else is a sin. My da always taught Sibeal and I not to judge people on that. He took in a young Italian boy, Louis, when we reached Boston. Louis'd been chucked out of his family fer being a poofter. He was my best friend, well fer some years at least."

 

"Look, it ain't what I'd want for ye and I think yer awful young to be making this decision fer the rest of yer lives but I don't think ye deserve whats coming to ye if folks round here find out. If the provos hurt ye I'd have to start hurting them and it'll be a blood bath all round. Better to avoid it."

 

"Ye'd take on the provos for us?" Connor sounded incredulous.

 

Noah looked away, slightly embarrassed. "If I had to."

 

He took on a slightly lighter tone. "Ye may not deserve the provos but ye do however deserve a hiding for upsetting yer ma like that."

There was some sort of silent exchange between the boys and then Connor nodded awkwardly.

"We won't fight ye on that if ye help us get away." Noah chuckled again.

"Wouldn't matter if ye did lad, if I thought you's both deserved it. But I reckon you might have had a few hidings in the last few years that weren't really deserved and that's my fault for not being here. So perhaps we can call it quits." Connor looked up at him confused. 

"Did that Shaughnessy hurt ye?" He was pushing it he knew, he definitely didn't have their confidence yet, Christ his older boy had just thought he was going to kill him; however, he had to know as it was the last loose end he had to tie up here.

The denial when it came from Murphy was swift and vehement. "We got by alright."

"Aye, I'm sure ye did, yer a resourceful pair of lads. But that wasn't the question I asked. I want to know what he did and I want the truth mind."

And there, for the first time since he'd come out of prison, the authority was back in his voice, he sounded and felt sure of himself, about to dish out justice once again. Surprisingly enough, it was Connor who answered him, looked him dead in the eye and said calmly.

"He strapped Murph so hard that he couldn't walk afterwards. He broke his arm and it hasn't set back properly. He's a sick fuck and he's got something against Murph. I was gunna kill 'im if you hadn't come along, that's why I had the knife that time after the fight in the choir." 

It was a request in the same way as Murphy's earlier plea to help them against the provos. Just as before he was powerless to resist a request from these boys who had asked so little from him or from anyone. He nodded at Connor.

"Conn . . " Murphy sounded stricken but Connor just looked at him, not an inch of guilt or remorse on his face. 

"Yer ma know he did this?" Connor hesitated, clearly not keen to blame his ma.

"Some, although she went along with it cos Fr Kinney," and the name was spat out, "told 'er she had to get help to beat the sin out of us. She was just doing what she thought best."

"Ok, well jest fergit about Shaughnessy now. Go and get dressed properly and we'll have lunch and I'll think about what we're gunna tell yer ma."

xxxxxxxx

 

Murphy slowly pushed the food around on his plate, eating little and saying nothing other than a brief amen to his father's grace over the food whilst Connor devoured his sausages effortlessly and then snitched Murphy's leftovers, Murphy putting up only a token protest. Noah had noted that Murphy often went off his food if he was under strain. 

 

"When are we leaving, da?" Connor interrupted his thoughts.

 

"Will take a couple of weeks to arrange passage and I need to earn a bit more cash, easier to get it here than there as I don't have any papers over there, not to mention the whole criminal record thing. Won't be easy for us over there, we'll have to work illegally, live illegally etc as we don't have citizenship. Lot of hard work for not a lot of pay."

 

"We don't mind hard work, da."

 

"Good, cos we'll have to work our way over on the boat as well." He paused, "if ye come with me yer gonna have to mind me over there. On everything. I mean that. If I tell ye to stay put somewhere, ye stay put. I ain't yer ma and I won't tolerate no sneaking out and I won't be so light with ye as I have been here, is that clear?"

 

"Aye da," "Of course da."

 

"And another thing, when we get there and get settled, ye have to promise me ye'll at least try to go out and meet some girls, or some boys as ye wish and see if ye can get friendly with someone else. If ye can't, ye can't but ye need to at least try it out. Can ye do that?"

 

The boys looked at each other and then briefly nodded. Noah could tell they didn't like the idea but he knew right now he could tell them to do any thing and they probably would so glad were they to be getting away from the provos punishment or, even worse, the threat of being separated.

 

"We'll tell yer ma, that it was a one-off thing, experimentation. Yer very sorry, it won't happen again and that I am going to take ye to Fr. Sibeal this evening for confession. I'll sleep in yer room from now on and one of ye can sleep on the couch until we leave." They looked even unhappier at the idea of not sleeping together for a few weeks but just nodded again.

 

"Ma, ain't gonna take this easy. She'll want you to take me and keep Connor here." Murphy sounded sure of his ground here. 

 

"Just leave yer ma to me, son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's point of view up next.


	3. The Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot bunking on a sweltering cargo ship with the scum of the earth.

Murphy had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, the smell of vomit still clinging to him even though he had expelled all of the contents of his stomach over the side of the boat hours ago. Connor knew that he should sleep too. Il Duce was due back from his shift in a couple of hours and then Connor and Murph would be due on for 8 hours. If Murph wasn't able to do his shift Connor guessed he'd have to work a double if they wanted to stay on the boat. Although maybe, and it was an odd thought, Il Duce might work Murph's shift for him instead. Connor didn't know his father very well yet but it seemed like the kind of thing he might do. Weird that, Murphy had always been his responsibility but it might just be that his father had a different opinion; he wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed by the idea.

 

His head was like a whirlwind thinking about everything that had happened over the past few weeks, starting off with getting caught by their ma with his cock in Murphy's mouth. They'd always been so careful, knowing even when they were 12 that this would earn them a beating for sure. It was just that morning Murph had been in the mood, when wasn't he, and Connor should have stopped him but he didn't. He'd known as he got older that the things they did that would have resulted in a hiding at 12 now at 17 might mean broken legs or even death. So fucking stupid, he could have killed himself for getting Murph into this situation and, yet somehow, it had all worked out better than his wildest dreams. Away from Ma, away from their poxy village with its narrow-minded bigots. Just him and his brother and his da.

 

Wasn't that a strange thing to get his head around - his da, the man his ma always held up as a paragon of catholic virtue and God's vengeful right-hand, turned out not to give too much of a fuck about what him and Murph were doing. He seemed to mainly be worried that they had somehow made a mistake and should experiment with other boys first, the whole sin aspect didn't seem that important to him and yet, he was definitely a catholic vigilante, killing in the Lord's name. He hadn't even insisted that they confess to Father Sibeal when they saw him that fateful evening; instead, they had had an oddly merry evening where his da had brought a bottle of whisky which he had shared liberally between the four of them and had told his uncle they were off to Boston as soon as they could get passage. Father Sibeal had seemed melancholy about them going but happy they were going together. It had almost seemed like a celebration whereas earlier it had been a death sentence.

 

It had been hard sleeping separate from Murph the last few weeks at home but it was better that way as his ma would have been suspicious beyond belief of them sharing a room after what she had caught them doing. He'd been relegated to the couch and his da had slept in their room with Murph. Any night that his da wasn't home when they went to bed (which was fairly frequent, his business, whatever it really was, taking him out most nights) his ma would sit in the lounge with him muttering prayers until the old man got back which he found pretty odd and difficult to sleep through. It had been even harder to get any time alone with Murph once they left home; at first they'd stayed overnight on the docks three of 'em to a room and now here on board ship there was even less privacy as they were hot bunking, him with his da and Murph with a Russian fella that stank of garlic. Russian fella was probably upset about sharing a bed with a Mick stinking of vomit but Connor couldn't give a shit about that.

 

He was a bit nervous about starting a shift on the boat in a couple of hours and the fact that Murph was sick just exacerbated that feeling. He wasn't afraid of working hard, he and Murph had been picking up whatever work they could since they were about ten and they both had strong backs. Its just the rest of the crew seemed like a pretty rough bunch; he'd already witnessed three fights before they even left shore and it was never just skin-on-skin, this lot fought with chains and knives. He hadn't cared to find out what happened to the loser of the fights, had just kept his head down and hauled Murph about trying to help him get over his seasickness. He knew the two of them stood out being so young and that there was a good chance this was going to get them a bit of unwanted attention, Murph's mouth'd probably do the rest to land them in a fight, it usually did. He wasn't too scared, he was handy in a fight, even against much bigger opponents but it always went better if Murph was on form too and right now he wouldn't be much use. If he was being honest with himself he didn't really want to get beaten up in front of his da either, didn't want his da to regret bringing the pair of them with him.

 

He knew his da fitted right in here; he just had that look of prison about him even though he'd been out for a while. There had been a fair few nods thrown his way when they had walked on board and a couple of whispers of "Il Duce". He knew the Old Man was tough, it wasn't just the weapons he carried or the fact he seemed to know how to use them, nor was it his reputation or the fact he'd done hard time; he wasn't even a particularly big man, bigger than Connor and Murphy but not huge. There was just something about the way he carried himself, a sort of graceful slouch that meant he was poised ready to attack whenever needed. Connor had been in enough scraps to recognise a born fighter when he saw one. He'd felt like they were harbouring a quiet but particularly dangerous snake in their terrace house, one who his mother had immediately welcomed in and treated as the head of the household and whom she had required her boys to treat with respect. He was used to his mother's godawful taste in men. First Father Kinney, then Shaughnessy and now Il Duce.

 

It was the danger that he sensed coming off Il Duce in waves that had made Connor very scared of his da when he first moved in with them, more scared than he had ever been of any other man, including Shaughnessy himself. So sure was he that Il Duce was just another violent fanatic that his mother had brought into his life to keep him and his brother in line that he and Murph both had been pretty terrified when, just a few weeks after the Old Man had come home, his ma had come upstairs with his da after the church incident with the fucking strap Fr Kinney had given her. And as always the best defence when you're scared is a good offence. They had given him no time to talk just spat sass and filth at him, each one goading him more than the other, trying to present himself as the better target. Connor wasn't sure what did it, maybe it was simply the culmination of too many beatings at the hands of older, more violent men but he'd snapped and pulled out a knife on his father. He remembered clearly the feeling as Il Duce moved forward as if bored, twisted one arm behind his back and pulled him in close to his body banging the wrist of his other arm down hard on the dresser. It was the first time his father had ever touched him and whilst clearly not a gentle, tender moment there was none of the painful rough follow through that he had experienced with other older men such as the brothers at school, Shaugnessy and even Father Kinney himself. He'd felt almost safe for a second, like his father was simply taking control and preventing him from hurting himself. But then he'd moved away from Connor as if he was shocked by the contact between them, he'd retreated quickly in to himself and left the room, leaving behind Father Kinney's strap and a shaken Connor. After that he seemed to distance himself even further from the boys, staying mostly silent for the small amount of time he was in the house. He had scared Shaughnessy off which was good as Connor was pretty sure he'd hospitalise the prick the next time he started in on Murph. If Connor was disappointed by this withdrawal it was something he never admitted even to Murph to whom he maintained the view that his father was just a violent arsehole who happened to not give much of a shit about them.

 

But then came the gentle way he treated their Ma. Connor knew what his ma was like, the swearing, the drinking and the religious fanaticism, she didn't exactly engender respect; however, she was still his ma and he liked to see her treated kindly although God knows she had shown little enough of that to him and Murph in recent years. Il Duce never raised his voice to her, he didn't drink in the house, he thanked her for every meal she cooked and provided well. In fact, really well, they had never been so well off in their lives. After his father had been back a month his ma had quit her job and Murph and he had had new boots and clothes that actually fit for the first time he could remember. The fact that his father seemed to come by the money honestly through his leather business had surprised Connor too. However, despite seeming to do the decent thing, his father remained aloof from all of them, rarely speaking except in prayer and he went out at night, pretty much every night, and was seen at a lot of RA haunts. Il Duce had even met his sons a time or two coming home when they were supposed to have been in their bedroom all night. He'd just nodded at them and made his way inside. Connor had woken up the next morning expecting the wrath of God in the form of a diminunitive Irish woman to fall down upon his head but nothing had ever been said. 

 

It was Murph who his da had started to build a relationship with. They were both up early doors each day and had obviously spent more time together. Connor hadn't been surprised really as it had been Murph that had wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt right from the time Connor had pulled a knife on him. That was Murph all over though, kind, always seeing things from other people's points of view. He asked Murph what they talked about but Murph had said nothing much, said the Old Man had just helped him with his Russian and Italian homework, apparently their da could speak those languages well but Murph reckoned he was shit when it came to writing in it. Later, Connor had found out they'd worked some leather together as Murph had given him a beautiful handcrafted wallet for their 17th birthday and he had to have learned that from somewhere. His da had given them both handcarved rosaries and Murph had immediately taken to wearing his around his neck like their da wore his. 

 

He'd been sure that Murph's feelings had changed towards their father when he witnessed an altercation between the two of them. One evening Murph had been talking at the table animatedly about something that had happened at school and as usual he'd been cursing a blue streak: twice their ma had had to say "Lord's fucken' name" and twice Murph had said a fairly perfunctory Hail Mary. Their da had just been sitting quietly eating his tea when Murph took the Lord's name in vain again and he snapped out. "For goodness sake boy, watch yer mouth and a proper Hail Mary is said contritely and on yer knees." He'd expected some backchat from Murph as that's what Murph did, well to everyone but their ma, but instead Murph had just looked at their father for a couple of beats, said "Aye da," and slid to his knees right there at the table. He had stayed kneeling for the time it took to say about ten Hail Marys (and Connor knew as he thought sometimes he was better off counting time in Hail Marys than in minutes so many had he said in his short life time) and then stood back up again and finished dinner as if nothing had happened. Murphy had never to his knowledge blasphemed in front of their da again, which was in itself odd now Connor came to think of it. 

 

Murph hadn't been scared of their da when they'd been left alone with him after their Ma had caught them "fornicating" - well him getting what had been the best blow job he'd ever had up until the point she came in. He had wondered idly as he knelt on the hard wooden floor in the sitting room whether being in Murph's mouth was good enough to die for as he was surely going to do once the provos found out. Murph had been nervous when their Ma left and his da ordered them to say a prayer of contrition before having a little talk but just nervous in the way any Catholic boy would be knowing his parent had found out about an act of incest not nervous that he was about to be killed by a vigilante. Connor, on the other hand, had been so fired with guilt and terror at what he had done and the situation he had gotten Murph into that he had imagined his da leading them out to the woods and stringing them up then and there. He'd argued with Murph before their father returned, he'd maintained that they either needed to light it out of there straight away or attack him before he attacked them, Murph, trying to be the voice of reason, had argued that if he hadn't been going to give them a pounding before he certainly would if Connor tried to hit him on the head.

 

Later, he'd known when he told his father what Shaughnessy had done to Murph that he was pronouncing a death sentence. He could admit to himself that he was aware of the consequences of telling his father and felt no guilt or remorse for causing the man's death. He certainly hadn't confessed it. He had seen the darkness in his Old Man's eyes when he had asked the question. Shaughnessy's death had been the talk of the town just before they left, everyone suspected the provos but Connor and Murph of course knew different. The provos, for their part, didn't seem bothered by Shaughnessy's death. The only one who seemed to lament him was Father Kinney, even their ma seemed pretty quiet on the subject as if she sensed that to mention his name would risk Il Duce's disapproval. Il Duce never referred to Shaughnessy again except that Connor had seen the look in the Old Man's eyes when Murph had, without thinking, removed his vomit covered top on the boat earlier today. Strappings of the ferocity Shaughnessy had meted out to Murph couldn't help but leave marks.


	4. Hashing things out a bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Noah McManus had ever met David Della Rocco what would he think? Oh, and what would life be like for Murphy if Connor moves on a bit?

"Lay down." Said mildly but with just enough of a hint of steel that Murphy did in fact lay down. Connor had been at it with his brother for about half an hour, insisting that Murph wasn't well enough to take his shift whereas Murph was insistent he was. 

 

"Boy," which seemed to be Il Duce's standard appellation for Murphy when he wanted to make a point. It was telling, to Connor at least, that Il Duce seemed to be the only one that could get away with calling his brother that without a fight. 

 

"Ye ain't gunna be well enough to work until ye can keep down the slop that passes for food around here. Ye stay there, I've already arranged it with the Russian that he can take my bunk. We'll be back in 8 hours, try n' get some sleep." The Old Man jerked his head at Connor and started walking back to the engine room where they were going to be working for the next 8 hours.

"I can take 'is shift."

"Aye but ye've got yer own. I'll take it." Connor tried again.

"He's my bruther, it's my responsibility." Il Duce paused his brisk walk for a moment and smiled.

"Aye and he's my son. I think that makes it my responsibility."

"Look, we're grateful for you bringing us over here and squaring everything with ma but we ain't planning on being a burden on ye. We're old enough we can look after ourselves and we don't need coddling." Il Duce looked at the ground and seemed to shuffle his feet and Connor was suddenly strongly reminded of his brother when he was preparing for an argument..

"I ain't gunna coddle ye. Not sure I'd know how even if ye were a pair of lasses. Its just I know I've done a piss poor job so far but I am yer father, let me help ye get settled, introduce ye to some good folk I know, maybe sort out some work. I owe ye some sort of start. I'll have to get back to work soon after we get there and who knows where that'll take me and ye'll be on yer own after that."

As with Murph when he presented an argument, Connor found himself unable to put up much of an argument to that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The canteen was crowded and the food had gotten worse as the voyage had gone on. David Della Rocco was pleased that they only had three more days of this before landing in Boston harbor. He was squashed in tight next to his two young Irish friends, still boys really, but with a wicked and irreverent sense of humor. The two of them had already gotten into a number of scrapes with the older workers on board. He was boasting to the boys about his new gig in Boston. The mafia had had a change of control and he'd been offered some work. Sure you had to start at the bottom but with his Italian heritage it shouldn't take too long before he was a made man.

 

"Ye'd be better starting at the bottom with an honest gig, lad." It was the twin's father, Mr McManus that had spoken. He rarely spoke or joined in conversation but it was well known around the boat that he'd done a long stretch in Hoag, possibly for murder. Truth be told Rocco was slightly scared of his friends' father but, as always when he was slightly nervous, his mouth ran away from him. 

"Says the man who's done more time than the rest of the lags on this boat put together." Mr McManus just looked up at him mildly and nodded.

"That I have lad" Then he turned to stare back down at his meal.

 

The McManus brothers looked pretty shocked at what he had just said and it was then he remembered that whilst they happily took the mick out of every other man on board the ship they were always pretty respectful of their father. 

It was Murphy that spoke first. "Ye shouldnae speak to our da like that Rocco." 

Connor was more succinct. "Apologise." 

 

Rocco almost fell over himself. He had no desire to piss off the twins but, even more, it came to him with a sudden clarity that he realised he should have possessed all along, Mr McManus was not a man you wanted to be on the wrong side of.

"I'm sorry Mr McManus, I didn't mean to offend you." The older man looked up at the young Italian his sons had taken such a shine to.

"I ain't offended lad. But the fact that ye ain't got the sense to keep yer mouth in check round the wrong people is another reason ye might want to rethink yer career."

"With all due respect sir, your sons ain't so good at that either." Mr McManus sighed.

"Aye, yer right, but then they ain't gunna have any truck with the mafia." He paused and looked briefly at both his sons. "Well, not if they want to keep the skin on their back." The older man chewed his food thoughtfully. "Your old man still around son?"

"No sir."

"Well just consider it some fatherly advice. Number one ye ain't right for that type of gig and number two, if ye are right for it after a while ye' wish ye weren't."

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

"Just with Rocco da. Just fer a few drinks round his place and watch a game. He's got a tv." Which was more than they had. His da had been right it was a shithole, a shithole the three of them shared with three mattresses on the floor. Still it was a thousand times better than his ma's place, at least it didn't contain his ma. 

"He still planning on working for the mob?"

"Aye, I think so da." His da could be a bit funny about Rocco.

"You gotta shift first thing tomorrow." And a bit funny about missing work. Murphy looked down at his boots; hopeful he was showing enough concern. He remembered all too well the conversation that night when they had first discussed leaving Ireland. "If ye come with me yer gonna have to mind me over there." Nothing in the way Il Duce had acted since had ever given him the impression that that had just been light conversation. 

"Aye, I know da. I won't be late."

"D'ye need me to buy some beer for ye?" Then again his da could be pretty cool most of the time as well, he certainly didn't seem to try to keep them on a tight reign.

"It's alright da. Rocco's legal so he's gonna buy them."

"Is Connor coming to join ye after he's finished helping Father Owen?"

"I dunno da but probably not as he wanted to get some kip before the double shift tomorrow." Connor liked Rocco well enough but he wasn't as keen on Rocco's company as Murphy was and there was the rub with Boston, he saw less and less of Connor and when he did they had no privacy. 

 

He wasn't sure what made him say it, he wasn't looking for sympathy from his da or anything, he just wanted to talk to someone.

"Connor, he's walking Kathleen home after Father Owen's group tonight." His da just looked at him and then asked softly.

"Kathleen O'Malley?"

"Aye. He's gunna ask her parents if he can take her to the church dance on Saturday night."

"Oh. You gunna take anyone?"

"Wasn't plannin' on going."

His da just nodded at that and leaned back over to clean his many guns; a procedure, Murphy had learned, that took at least one hour in the morning and one at night and that was treated with much the same reverence as his father's morning and evening prayers. Just as Murphy was putting on his coat to go to Rocco's, his father seemed to pick the conversation back up.

 

"Well, ye said ye wanted to learn to shoot a gun, Saturday night might be as good a night as any. If ye ain't doing anything of course." 

"Yeah, that'd be good da."

Suddenly, he didn't feel so down about Saturday night. Yeh sure, Connor was gunna hang out with a catholic girl who might just let him get to first base if he tried really hard but Murph was gunna shoot a gun, probably lots of different guns, with his da.


End file.
